Sloppy Seconds
by SuperCasshern
Summary: Sam's never been one to talk about her feelings, but after a near-fatal accident she finds herself opening up to a complete stranger.
**Okay, so I've had this story sitting on my laptop for LITERALLY a year. It was meant to be it's own thing, but after writing "Digital Love" and "Without You" I changed it just enough to fit into the same timeline. It doesn't really have any bearing on the other two stories and it can really just be it's own angsty fluff piece, but I plan on referring to it once in a while (when I finally get off my ass and write more Seddie stuff). Anyway, thanks for reading and any constructive criticism is welcome.**

* * *

"Sam! Samantha, wake up!"

As desperate as the disembodied voice sounded Sam couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. How did she get here? Where was here anyway? What was the last thing she remembered? Samantha Joy Puckett could recall something about a convention. Oh yes, the annual Axe Throwers International convention. Sam had gotten free tickets from a radio show (Torch-Man and the Wolf, 94.5FM) and had a surprisingly good time amongst the burly lumberjacks and random axe aficionados. She had been riding home for the better part of the night after winning the annual raffle and walking away with a life time supply of buff pads and metal cleaner, but what happened after that?

"Oh, don't do this to me, Sam. Oh, no, no, no, no, NO! C'mon, sweetie, this is not the time to slip this mortal coil! Your arm is a mess, Sam, but I promise I'll fix it. I'm gonna give you something, it should help the pain and keep your heart pumping, but I need you to hold on!"

Her arm? That's right, she had been on a rather windy road, a supposed short cut back home. When she had accelerated around one of the corners the bike's chain had slipped and Sam and her bike had been thrown through the air like a rag doll.

"C'mon, Sam, c'mon. I need you to want to be here, I need you to stay. Think about Cat. She needs you here, she can't even make toast! And Freddie! Sweet, nerdy Freddie! He needs you most of all! He loves you more than anything! More than you love ham and chicken and Blue Dog soda! Please, Samantha, please stay..."

.

Sam had placed her California-compliant Blue Dog in makeshift brick cup holder and hoisted herself onto the large rock wall that separated the local cemetery from the rest of the world. Strangely this wall had become Sam's favorite getaway spot in recent months. Though she would never admit it, it was because of the view.

It had been more than three weeks since her near-death experience. The doctors couldn't believe how fast her road to recovery had been, for all intents and purposes Sam should've died that night. The EMS had reported that a man in a tweed jacket had alerted them to her location and had stayed with her until they reached the hospital where he simply disappeared. They say that if it wasn't for him she would've died right there on the side of the road.

Strangely, the only visible evidence of her accident was the navy blue sling that held her still tender right arm and the light scar that trailed just above her hairline behind her left temple. The voice, which she now knew belonged to the mystery man, had said that he gave her something to keep her heart going. Sam wondered if what he gave her was responsible for her miraculous recovery.

Sam didn't really care about her brush with death though, she had cheated the specter once or twice and had even full on thrown herself into the maw of danger at least one time to save the only boy she had ever loved. What bothered her most was the memory of the man from that night. He had sounded so concerned about her, more so than any normal person would've been. Not only that he had known who she was, who her roommate Cat Valentine was, and most important to her, the only boy she had ever loved was.

"What are you doing up here?"

Though the voice was soothing it's sudden inclusion in her world made Sam jump a bit. Turning to her left she saw an older man, maybe in his late forties, with close cropped hair, wearing a blue leather jacket with a hastily repaired shoulder seam and ratty torn jeans. He had silently taken a seat next to Sam and gave her a warm smile.

"Wha-?! Um, I just...I like to think up here, is that a crime?" she said defensively.

The man pulled his previously unseen brown messenger bag into his lap and began rummaging through it. "Well no, not here anyway. Or now for that matter." he replied.

"You're weird."

"Am I?" he asked with a look of genuine confusion plastered on his face. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Would you like a Jelly Baby?"

Sam eyed the small white paper bag the man had fished out of his messenger bag and half scowled. "Uh, no thanks? If you don't mind I'd like to be alone."

The man shrugged and threw one of the multicolored gummy treats into his mouth before turning back to the sunset that had fallen across the city skyline. "I love this time of day, the way the sunlight is defused across the skyline and bounces off the particles in the clouds. Nothing back home compares to this."

"Hey, I asked nicely which isn't something I do often. Get lost." Sam hated stirring in her own emotions and she especially hated doing it in front of people and ESPECIALLY if she didn't know said people.

"Look at this!" the man suddenly exclaimed, clearly unphased by the tone of Sam's voice, "It happens every day all around the world, but how many people even stop to notice it? How many people drink this in? How often does a person stop and make this little slice of time all their own?" He continued plucking the gummy treats from his bag and popping them into his mouth, completely oblivious to the shift in Sam's attitude.

"One hundred and seventy three."

"Excuse me?" he asked turning his attention back to the wavy haired blonde.

"One hundred and seventy three since he-" she choked back a sob and quickly composed herself, "-in the last eight months."

"I see." the man replied, understanding that he had hit a raw nerve. "Where did he go?"

"Back to Seattle."

"And why didn't you go?" he asked, shaking the bag of starchy treats in her direction. "Or why didn't he stay?"

She ignored the bag and continued staring at the sunset. "His life's there, mine's here. I couldn't just pack up everything I built for myself and I couldn't ask him to do the same."

"Why not?"

Sam looked at him like he had gone mental and scoffed. "Why? Because he's amazing. He's ruined the entire concept of dating for me, that nub. He's the only one to treat me like I'm special without wanting anything in return. He's...important."

"Seems like someone that important should be here watching the sunset with you." he replied with a smile.

"You wouldn't understand." she said softly. Suddenly Sam's head snapped up and stared at the strange man. "Why am I even telling you all this? Who the chizz are you anyway?"

The mystery man smiled even bigger now, "I'm a physician of sorts. Sort of a soldier at the moment, too."

"What, like a field medic?"

"Yes, I suppose that's the best title for now." he replied. He tossed the now empty bag of treats into his messenger bag and dusted the leftover starch off his hands.

"Well, Medic, I really don't want to talk about Freddie anymore so let's just drop it." As much as she didn't want to admit it, talking to someone about her feelings actually seemed to be helping, though being so open was still an alien concept to her. Sam was never one for speaking her feelings, though she had no problem speaking her mind when things didn't go her way and when words didn't work she had no problem speaking with her fists.

"Fair enough." the Medic replied.

The two of them sat on their wall in silence, before them the sun was completing it's final bow before turning the sky over to the moon. Below them head and taillights began moving through the streets of Los Angeles like the neon blood of a great beast.

"There was this one time," the Medic began out of nowhere, "quite a long while ago, I was attending a Christmas party. Well, it was a Christmas sweater party in September. Lord, I had found the ugliest one, too. All green and red with purple trees and yellow reindeer..." He chuckled at the memory before continuing. "Anyway, right in the middle of this huge party I receive a phone call from Tegan. She was crying over something, I think her husband had died, my memory isn't what it used to be. She said she needed to talk to me one last time. I hadn't spoken to her in oh...a hundred years?"

The Medic left a long pause hanging in the air that began to eat away at Sam's curiosity. She knew well enough to not take the bait, but something about this strange man's story relaxed Sam more than she had been for quite some time. Maybe if a kind stranger was nice enough to try to cheer her up with random treats and words of wisdom, maybe she could be nice enough to listen.

"So...what did you do?" she asked, the bait clearly taken.

"So I left. Right in the middle of this gala event, just 'poof' and gone. Fitz and Anji were positively furious, I left them on Jenova for three days! Poor Anji got proposed to by at least four drunken heads of state!" The Medic began to laugh. He turned to Sam before wiping the smile from his face. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, "But Tegan, my dear Tegan, she was more important. I spent a week with her. A whole week and she never once told me I had forgotten to take off that stupid sweater. It was so embarrassing!" Another brief chuckle. "'Brave heart, Tegan' I would say. She would remind me that she hated that phrase. She didn't really, but poking fun at me made her smile."

"Wait, you spent a whole week in the same sweater?"

"Of course," he replied, "I never left her house! We would just sit there most of the time drinking cold coffee and watching Western football. It was her husband's favorite sport." He paused again and took a deep breath of the cool night air. "Her children came to stay with her the day before I left. They couldn't believe the crazy old doctor from all her stories was real, it was like coming home to find Humpty Dumpty sitting in your favorite recliner. You've never seen adults make such a fuss over one person! 'Brave heart, Tegan.' It was the last thing I said to her before I left. It was the last thing I ever got to say..." Another deep breath, this time he used it to steady his voice and compose himself. "So, the point is whatever time you have left, whatever slice of time you can make your own, you do it because it will never come again."

Sam began fiddling with a loose thread on her sling and let the end of the Medic's story hang in the air."Maybe." she finally replied.

"Tell me something," the Medic asked, "if you could tell Fredrick-"

"Fredward." Sam corrected.

"Excuse me, Fredward. If you could tell him anything right now, what would it be?"

Sam tried to sort through the billion sentences she had concocted in her head over the years. She had missed her chance to get back together with Freddie before she left for LA, she missed her chance to tell him she loved him after the debacle, and though the goodbye kiss they had shared after the killer tuna fiasco was amazing and though the love letter Mrs. Benson sent on behalf of her selfless son made Sam's heart fly they never talked about where they stood after that.

"I'd...I don't know." she finally replied, "I'd tell him I miss him."

"Go on." the Medic urged, "There's more there."

"I'd tell him I love him more than chicken."

"Chicken?!" the Medic exclaimed. Suddenly he burst into a full-hearted laugh. "Oh, that is absolutely PHENOMINAL!"

Sam couldn't help but laugh along with him. "Shut up, I really like chicken."

"Of this I have no doubt. Hold on..." the Medic stopped laughing and began mulling something over in his brain. "Fredward. From Seattle."

"Yeah?"

"Fredward Leonard Benson?"

"Yeaaaaah?"

"That makes you Samuel Joy Puckett."

Sam's face dropped as she grabbed the Medic's collar and yanked him closer to her. "THAT'S SAMANTHA, YOU LIMEY BRIT!" she yelled. No one had called her that since she was four. Even her drunk excuse of a mother learned her lesson after Sam had poured flavorless laxative into her bottle of scotch. It had been the only leftover from her deadbeat father, the original Samuel Puckett. It was a cruel joke, her father had wanted a son to carry on his name and by god he would have at least half of that dream come true. She hated that name so much that when she was ten she forged her mother's signature and ordered a name change as a birthday present from herself.

"Not according to your first birth certificate." he replied with a smile.

Sam released his jacket and pulled away from him. "How? Who are you?"

The Medic gently took her hand, "I tell you what, let's go see Freddie. Right now." The smile plastered on his face was genuine.

"Look, I think you should go." she replied while freeing her hand from his grip, "You're starting to freak me out and when I get freaked out I hit things with my butter sock."

"Does butter wear socks?" the Medic asked with the same dopey smile. Sam just stared at him, her tough demeanor barely holding place. The Medic nodded in recognition of her silent answer. "Right, I'm sorry for scaring you, Samantha-"

"Sam."

He nodded again, "Yes. Sam. I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm."

"Don't you have a war to fight, Medic?" she asked coldly. Sam was done listening to this man, she should've been done a long time ago. The one time she decided to open up to a stranger and it blew up in her face. That was it, she was never taking Cat's advice again.

"Actually..." The Medic stopped short. His eyes glazed into a thousand yard stare. Quickly shaking the cobwebs from his brain he quickly slapped a stupid grin on his face before turning back to his blonde companion. "It was very nice to meet you, Sam."

.

It was near midnight when Sam finally found herself in front of her front door. She knew Cat would be worried about her and she wasn't quite ready to deal with her "who, what, where" line of questioning she would bombard Sam with as soon as she walked in. She wearily placed her key in the lock and sighed. In retrospect talking to the Medic had taken some of the weight off her mind, but she was still unnerved by how much he had known about her. Still, the thought of cold non-rectangular pizza and a shlocky horror movie to end the day was enough to put her at ease.

"Sam?"

She whipped around half expecting the new voice to just be some cruel trick her ears were playing on her or some hallucination brought on by dormant head trauma from her accident, but sometimes the world is kind and sometimes karma decides to give you a free pass.

Sometimes brown eyes meet blue.

"Freddie? What are you-? How?"

Fredward Benson clad in a hefty blue leather jacket and tan cargo pants, dropped his duffle bag with a loud thump and closed the distance between them. He gently cupped her blushing cheeks

and gave her a warm smile before placing a chaste kiss on her lips. Sam's good hand instinctively moved behind Freddie's back and pulled him as close as she could get him without hurting her injured arm.

"Um, I'm not really sure how to explain." he said as he pulled away, a euphoric grin still plastered on his face. "This weird guy showed up about a few days ago and handed me this jacket with—oh, man! Sam, what happened to your arm?!" Freddie stepped back in shock at the sight of Sam's wounded appendage.

She ignored the panic in his voice and ran her left hand along the hastily repaired seam of Freddie's jacket. "This, it can't be, it looks like—did this weirdo guy have brown hair and talk like a limey Brit?"

"Not at all, he was gray and Scottish. Seriously, why is your arm in a sling? Did you get into an accident?"

"What else did he say?" Sam asked, ignoring his question.

"Um, something about making slices of time. I don't really remember, half of what he said was ranting about some girl and the rest of it was all gobbledygook. Oh! He did give me this. He said you didn't want any the first time. He called them Jelly...Bellies? Why didn't you tell me you got-"

"Jelly Babies." Sam corrected. "Freddie, I need to know what he said."

Knowing when he was beat Freddie threw his arms up in defeat. If Sam wanted to tell him what happened to her he would just have to wait. "Fine, the weird old guy, he shoved this jacket in my face and said-"

.

 _Freddie Benson had been leisurely strolling though the suburbs of New York trying to put as much space between himself and the Benson family reunion. He had been walking for the last hour before a traditional New York "stoop sale" caught his eye. As he browsed the trinkets on the elderly woman's table he didn't notice the gray haired man with wild eyes rush towards him._

 _"Fredward Leonard Benson! You milksop, I've been looking for you!"_

 _Freddie dropped into a defensive stance. He thanked the powers that be that he and Spencer had started taking Kyokugen Karate classes last summer. "What the heck? What's your problem? How do you know who I am?"_

 _"What're you doing? Stop standing like that, you look like a drunk flamingo!" The strange old man rubbed his temples and muttered something about people being primitive apes before turning his attention back to Freddie. "Now then: Samuel, excuse me, Samantha Puckett thinks you're the most important thing since sliced bread. We both know that's not true, sliced bread is amazing, but to get Samantha Puckett to pay any kind of compliment, especially one so mind-numbingly positive, is a modern miracle. I mean, have you even read any of her reviews?" He paused for a moment, "No, of course you didn't, she hasn't written any of them yet. Amazing writer, horrible table manners."_

 _"I don't—how do you know Sam?"_

 _"What? What does that matter to you? Seriously, for someone who's supposed to be a genius you are an A-class pudding brain. What're your marks in primary school? Wait, you don't have that here."_

 _Freddie stifled a nervous laugh, "You're nuts!"_

 _"Yes I am!" the old man replied with a grin. "Now here, take this jacket. In the left pocket is a plane ticket, I expect you to be on it and at Samantha's side within forty-eight hours. Tell her the 'Medic' sent you and tell her I'm sorry for upsetting her the first time I met her. Well, second time for her, but that's not important. Tell her to make this slice of time her own." The old man shoved the blue leather jacket into his arms._

 _"Wha-? I'm not following any of this! Why should I believe-" Freddie paused as he retrieved an envelope from the jacket's pocket. Sure enough there was two plane tickets, one from New York to Los Angeles, the other from LA to Seattle. "Oh. Oh, these are real plane tickets. Wait, why are you doing this? How do you know where Sam lives? How do you know where I live?"_

 _"You ask too many questions, now shut your face and go pack!"_

 _._

"You nub, you just said you didn't remember. That was practically all of it."

Freddie laughed that airy laugh that always made Sam go weak in the knees. "Well, he said you called me important. It caught my attention."

Sam ran her good hand up along Freddie's arm and blushed. "How long are you here for, Benson?" she asked using as much self-control as she could muster to keep from attacking his face with her lips.

"Well that's the thing," he produced a plane ticket from his pocket, "this thing's return date is in four days, but just before I left New York I got a call from the LA branch of this non-profit company called _'A Charitable Earth.'_ I don't know how legit it is, but after I graduate they want me out here laying groundwork for digital infrastructure systems in developing countries."

Sam blinked a thousand times. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. Not even half way into my higher learning career and I already have a job lined up. If it's on the up-and-up I'll be moving out here in about two years and some change."

Sam wrapped her good arm around his neck and smashed her lips against his. Freddie's next sentence was shoved back down his throat by Sam's tongue, though he would never complain. Suddenly the world melted away and for a brief nothing in the universe existed except the two most in love people on the planet.

Finally Sam came up for air and rested her forehead against Freddie's. She sighed and smiled softly before locking eyes with him again."That weirdo Medic, he asked me what I would say to you if you were here right now."

"And? I'm right here, Sam." he said with a smile that made her knees jelly.

Sam needed another kiss to steady herself. "I love you more than chicken." she finally blurted out. It wasn't the first time she had said that to him, but Lord knew she hadn't meant it as deeply as she meant it at that moment.

"WOAH." Freddie pulled away a bit and brushed the stray locks of hair away from his forehead. "Oh...oh, man. Wow, that's deep."

"Shut-up." Sam giggled as she playfully slapped his shoulder.

"No, seriously." Freddie drew in a deep breath, "Sam...I love you more than Galaxy Wars."

Sam smacked her good hand over her mouth and let out a mock gasp, "Oh, chizz! Freddie Benson, do you realize what you just said?"

"Of course. I love you, Sam. Till forever and a day." He placed his lips back over hers. There they stood for moments on end, gently conveying a million emotions that words could never come close to. Their kiss wasn't a hungry one, not the kind that you give to someone whom you haven't seen in eight months, nor was it the kind you beg for because you can't stand your own loneliness. No, this was the kind of kiss that makes the sun shine in the dead of night, the kind that pushes mountains into the sea and makes the angels weep with joy. Knowing that one of them would have to be the brave one and end the kiss Freddie finally pulled away slowly and smiled. Reaching behind him he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "So, who's this medic guy?"

Sam reached for the door knob."I don't...I don't know. But I tell you what I do know," she turned back to the boy she loved with all her heart and blushed, "I owe him a big one."

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 **Title and story inspired by the song "Sloppy Seconds" by George Watsky.**

 **Bonus points go to whoever can figure out who the Medic is supposed to be.**


End file.
